Edward W. Axson to Jessie Woodrow Wilson Sayre

My dear Jess

I have been meaning for a long time to write and answer your sweet letter but I didnt do so before you left for Canada and then I didnt have your address there until Aunt Madge came and then it was so near time for you to return to Princeton that I thought I would wait and write to you there. I suppose you are back at home now though and I will pay my long due debt. I have been very naughty this summer and havent written to any of my friends—they have all given me up as a hopeless case since I got married—there is so much else to do about the house and yard and so little time to do it in that it just seems impossible to settle down to letter writing—But now that colder weather has come and we can no longer sit out on the porch in the evenings I hope to let some of my friends know that I am still alive. How I wish you and the other dear ones at Princeton could come to see us now in our little home—Florence and I often speak of you and wish that you could come down to visit us. We want you to start a campaign against Mama and dont give her any peace until she promises to bring you. You just must come before you leave for Europe. We have the prettiest sweetest little home now perched up on a hill over the furnace, and Florence and I have spent many hours this summer fixing things up—arranging things about the house, working with the flowers and vegetables &c &c. We have a perfect mengagerie now of animals, including a horse a cow, two calves, a dog, seven hens, two roosters and twenty five chickens—how is that for live stock. We had a cat too until yesterday when poor “Kitty Leach” took sick and died. The second calf was born while Madge was here and is the prettiest little fellow you ever saw. He delights in running the chickens—he waits until we are feeding them and they are all crowded together and then with tail pointing skyward he kicks up his heels and gallops into them. The other day he kicked one of the old roosters in the side and nearly finished him. Prince is thriving—he is a great big dog now and as pretty as ever—Florencedidnt like him much at first when he insisted on scratching up the flower beds to see what we had hidden, but now she wouldnt part with him for anything. I made him a fine warm house today out of a dry goods box—he took possession at once and bit my hand in play when I put it in to arrange his bedding for him. He and the cat used to kiss one another and be the best of friends. He is as big a coward as ever though. We took a walk yesterday and two big curs jumped on him and were making it pretty lively for him when I ran to his assistance. I picked up a stone to throw at his assailants but as it was too small I picked up another which served the purpose very well. Then after I had rescued Prince we came on and after awhile I of happened to glance at the stone I had first picked up, and to my surprise found that it was an Indian arrow head—wasn't it a queer chance that made me select that at random—they are very rare about here too.

We are sending you by todays mail a little birthday present just to show that we didnt forget you the 28th, though we couldnt send it then. We send one for Margaret also, tho' it is very late for hers—but you know we were on our journey South when her birthday came. Well I must close in order to catch the train—With a heart full of love for Jessie and all the rest from us both—Lovingly
Ed.